The World We All Want

This book, a short introduction to Christianity written by Tim Chester and Steve Timmis, is a great resource for doing its job, something it does with aplomb and regularity in church circles I'm used to. (It probably helps that both of its authors are both of the founding leaders of my church but it's caught on elsewhere too.) 'TWWAW' (pronounced 'idk') for short, rather than the kind of book you can give to a non-christian and expect them to engage well with it (they might, but only if they've already got a vague familiarity with what Christian-ness: a better resource for letting someone read as an introduction would be 3-2-1), it's designed as seven studies, observing a passage of scripture and running some investigative questions, best worked through in small group discussions. I've just finished going through it with a handful of seekers, as I was one of the supporting facilitators in the studies - not that it needed much, as if led by someone who knows Christianity well, TWWAW pretty much drives all the sessions itself. It's structured around the whole biblical narrative, from creation to fall to redemption to new creation, tracing how Jesus succeeded the various transitional steps required to complete this progress that Israel failed at. It's well biblically grounded but doesn't go into a huge amount of theological depth, which makes it very accessible, but it does have the potential for the sheer massiveness of the story presented and the well-poised questions invoking responses from seeker readers to prompt questions that do go into considerable depth (which is why it's probably advisable to have a pretty experienced Christian leading this study, rather than just giving the books out). Anyway - as a resource that I've seen many a time over the last decade prove its effectiveness in communicating the gospel and linking it well to individual concerns about God and sin and such, I wholeheartedly recommend TWWAW for any Christians to use in study groups with friends who are seeking, and pray that in any such efforts God uses these well-structured little studies to bring people closer to the truth.

The Thick of It: the Missing DoSAC Files

This book, an expansion on the darkly-satirical BBC political sitcom The Thick of It written by the same writers (chiefly Armando Iannucci) as the show, is just brilliant. If you're already a fan of the show, you can quit reading this post already - just acquire and devour a copy ASAFP ("F standing for...?" "Feasibly, I should imagine"). You'll laugh hard enough to burst, or at least considerably strain, several minor organs. If you haven't seen the show, you may as well quit reading this post already too and go and watch the show in its entirety* and then come back, having been nourished with some serious entertainment and better-equipped to make the most of the remainder of this post.
   The continuation of the show's content and tone into book form is pitch-perfect, picking up the same cast and themes from the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship and its chronically-hazardous encounters with the press. Comprising the book is a vast assortment of all kinds of texts; formal, informal, printed, sent digitally, transcribed, scribbled angrily on post-its: the variety of these and how well the writers have adapted to each signifies ingenious authorship (imho) and makes reading the book a consistently-amusing but haphazard jigsaw-like experience. We get to see the correspondences of Glenn Cullen and Julius Nicholson as they spout endless needless whims, respectively those of a redundant grump and an air-headed careerist; Terri Coverley's appraisal forms testify a formidable blindness to her own ineptitude; Nicola Murray's attempts at drafting policies or 'coming across like a human' in interviews dazzle in all her gaffe-prone glory; Peter Mannion and his Opposition team's out-of-touch frustrations make whiteboard planning matrices and email chains a vindictive delight to read. At the heart of the book, as the show, is the terrifying spin doctor Malcolm Tucker, using brutal (if creative) verbal abuse and intricate manipulation and everything in-between (including anything he can make his quasi-compliant hand-puppet, Ollie Reeder, do) to maintain the government's image. And it's Tucker and his enormous twisted spiderweb that underpin the humourousness and interestingness of the book/show.
   Ultimately, The Thick of It is fantastic satire because of how deeply it explores this nexus at the heart of modern politics and the media: the relationship between the free press and the democratic state. One side desperately trying to remain profitable by bringing audiences big surprising stories, the other desperately trying to remain electable by maintaining a basic veneer of respectability and competence. We end up with, in extreme form in The Thick of It but oh-so-recognisable in real life, the only-human fallibility of our ministerial class leading to a complex treacherous war over what journalists are liable to say. So political parties resign to unambitious low-risk centrism, the press resign to hyperbole and speculation, and the general public, with no power over either side, can do little but resign to sit and watch what they rightly perceive to be a government whose first priority is not social justice in any substantive sense but winning battles of spin. No wonder modern westerners are so apathetic - disillusionment and cynicism are probably the most natural responses to realising such a state of affairs. Armando Ianucci and the other writers of this brilliantly clever show/book have exposed this sad tangle incredibly well.
   Like all truly excellent satire, it can be deeply thought-provoking; it's an insightful socio-political commentary, a lament for the decline of objectivity in the public sphere (both the state's commitment to ideology-reasoned leadership and the media's commitment to impartial truth) at the hands of populism. Also like all truly excellent satire, it's very very very fucking funny.


* It's on Netflix I think? This book came out in 2010 which was before the fourth season (which lampooned the Coalition government marvellously) so there are a few characters and elements who don't feature unfortunately, but hey, it's still hilarious. Note: those easily offended by swearing might not warm to the show.

Economics of the 1%

This book, an eclectic polemical skewering of everybody's least favourite social science, is another that I'm writing a proper review for on the Rethinking Economics blog. I've just finished reading it in a mad splurge, having realised that this review was due about three weeks ago (fortunately they haven't noticed its absence yet). John Weeks, the author, is unsurprisingly a big fan of the student movement to 'rethink economics' (oh hey yeh that's why it's called that) - hence his bestowing upon us this copy for free. He's scrawled "CHANGE THE PROFESSION!" inside the front cover, which I love; it's lent the book purpose in the context of my involvement with leftyism generally and RE specifically. Anyway, I'm currently away on RE's nation-wide campaign planning weekend in Edale - everyone else is arriving in a couple of hours but I had nothing to do all day so I got an early train with the intent of going for a walk in the hills but it's been chucking it down, so I slinked off to a pub where I read the last few chapters of this punchy little book, begged for the wifi code, and am now writing up a rudimentary explanatory post on my phone over a pint. Don't worry, I'll write up a proper review for the RE blog when I get back to Sheffield, and will insert the address into
THIS LINK TO THE FULL REVIEW

[Edit November 2016: it appears that during a recent re-vamp of Rethinking Economics' website, the entire blog has been lost into the Error 404 ether - so pasted below is my review's text.]

Mainstream economics, as communicated to the masses by private media, is a series of pseudo-scientific explanations for neoclassical theory that prop up a status quo in which the rich prosper at the expense of everyone else. If this sounds like quite a hard-core Marxian take on the dismal science’s place in modern capitalist society – well, it is. This is John Weeks’ central point. If this review comes across as aggressively leftist, I assure you it’s only because I’m emulating the book.

   Unabashedly polemical, Weeks writes with an indefatigable fire (sometimes even spilling over into sardonic jokes about ‘fakeconomists’ or our corporate overlords) that would get quickly tiresome were it not for the sheer quantity and quality of compelling arguments he makes for his case. With a Ha-Joon Chang-like humour and clarity, he applies real-world pluralism and common-sense against the abstract tenets of neoclassical ‘fakeconomics’. It’s readable, it’s illuminating, and if you’re a generally-left-wing reader you may find yourself (as I did) swept into a deeper critical suspicion of mainstream economics than you ever thought possible.

   In the majority of the book’s chapters, he tackles a major myth propagated by the mainstream, exposes its flaws and fallacies, and deconstructs it to show how these ideas are constructed as ‘truths’ because of how they benefit the rich and powerful. He thus engages the finance sector, free trade, resource scarcity, unemployment and competition, government intervention, deficits and debt, inflation, and more. At the core of making all these chapters work are his ongoing threads elucidating upon the facts that all markets have socio-political origins and structures, and that some people have more power within these structures than others. That is; firstly that everything a capitalist society flourishes upon from its economic activity is dependent on structures being in place to allow fair and free market activity; and secondly that some individuals may be better placed to privilege from these structures in ways that others aren’t. These arguments seem so vaguely agreeable that they are hard to deny – sure, we can define ‘fair’ or ‘free’ or ‘better placed to privilege’ in a variety of ways, but ultimately, if we accept these reasonable points, then vast swathes of plutocratic propaganda (i.e. mainstream economics) go out the window. We reopen arguments within economic theory to political critiques, which have always been more sympathetic to the real world than economic theory itself.

   These chapters are bookended well. The first chapter lays out an idea of what good (or at least realistic) economics is, as opposed to the ‘fakeconomics’ purported by the mainstream, and which is far more susceptible to hijacking by vested interests. The penultimate chapter, following the thrust of the book as discussed above, is a focused study of austerity – a perfect example of policy that makes the poor poorer, the rich richer, and has almost no grounding in sensible well-thought-out economic theory. Once one understands the basic Keynesian principle of managing aggregate demand, then the rationale for the slow painful ‘paths to recovery’ via cuts to public services and the sale of public assets completely dissolves and these policies are seen for what they are: barely-concealed power-grabs by wealthy corporate actors. Western austerity is a bleak testament to the relentless grip the 1% holds and moulds their populations’ opinions in.

   In the final chapter, Weeks lays out some rough ideas about what an economics for the 99% would look like. His propositions are grounded in an approach that, while broadly pluralistic, bears its primarily-Marxian heritage proudly, and I think constitute some familiar and important pointers for where economics as a subject needs to be taken – chiefly, democratised, politicised, and opened to plurality and interdisciplinarity of debate. Robert Cox, a political economist, wrote “theory is always for someone and for some purpose”: in any social science we should maintain a somewhat-critical lens, as the theories we seek to apply can’t be neatly abstracted away from the social phenomena we’re applying them to, nor from the moral or normative implications of engaging with real people’s issues. Cox argued for political economy as Weeks does for economics that we should strive to reform the disciplines into emancipatory efforts, not explaining away structures that support those with wealth and power but constantly intellectually challenging the status quo so as to yield pragmatic outcomes that benefit, rather than exploit, as many people as possible.

   One of the key next-steps for economics then is to widen public understanding and participation in the subject. Neoliberal hegemony was able to take root, and maintain its legitimacy, by providing ‘economic explanations’ for its actions, which Weeks has argued are in large part patently false, but democratic society allowed these a free pass because they were also clad in the impenetrable mathematical jargon of neoclassical economic theory. We need to challenge the preconception that because something is widely-taught and respected by journals it is right: we need to push for critical discussion and pluralism within economics. And more importantly, we need to dismantle the ‘far-too-difficult-for-normal-people’ label attached to understanding of socioeconomic topics, to produce and disseminate accessible resources to empower non-economists to engage in these debates. Self-education is not just something Post-Crash societies do – it’s something everyone needs to do, to understand how the society we’re part of works so we can best act as political individuals within it. Just as Weeks highlights in his introduction, erasing public ignorance of economic reality is crucial if we want democratic societies to be steered by the educated masses rather than a manipulative handful.

   Hopefully the relevance of this book to the Rethinking Economics movement will be evident. Our aims are to demystify, diversify and reinvigorate economics: politicising the subject as much as John Weeks proposes will certainly do the third; the implied necessities of public understanding and pluralism tick off the first and second too. While this book is altogether more radical than RE (which I should restate is non-political), if you’re curious I would argue that a reasonable and realistic economics would find itself far more closely aligned to such strong-left positions than it would to the current neoliberal orthodoxy. And I’m not going to argue this point here, because John’s written a whole book full of brilliant points as to why.

The Opposite of Loneliness

This book is a compilation of fictional and nonfictional works which I borrowed off my housemate ages ago and have been reading very slowly (sorry Jack, fortunately I know you don't read this).

   It's by Marina Keegan, an aspiring (and starting to be successful for proper) writer and Yale student who tragically died shortly after her graduation. The introduction, by Anne Fadiman, a teacher, mentor and friend of Marina's, sketches her vibrant personality and ambitious talent, and the narrative of her cut-short life in context of her work. It's heartbreaking. We feel we are getting to know this wonderful person, post-mortem; and this feeling only deepens once you start reading through her actual writings, which (short stories and essays both) swell to almost bursting with the marks of an incredible human soul. A powerful intellect, a penetrating emotional insight, a myriad unexpected nuances of attitude or relationship expressed in her arguments and characters, a deep undercurrent of optimism and hope and above all a joyous youthful sense of delight in possibility: even though most of the works here range from quite to extremely sad, Marina Keegan's bubbling positivity and brilliance as a writer keep them from sinking the reader. The effect of each individual short story or essay is gutwrenching and heartwarming, often at several points throughout, sometimes simultaneously. She has a subtle sense of humour that doesn't evoke laughter but rather a forced intensive burst of empathy.

   What can I say? These short stories and essays are so diverse in tone, content and voice that the collection stands as a remarkable achievement, a testament to the sheer skill and specialness of their author. Without the neat page-partition between fiction and nonfiction I'm not entirely sure I could've stated which was what, so overlapping in style and themes are these works. The fictions cover such different stories and genres as the final days of people trapped on a broken-down submarine, a man's fleeting doubts about proposing to his girlfriend while reclaiming baggage, a housing developer facing worsening conditions in Baghdad (written in form an email chain); several others are more grounded in typical young-westerner-life-experience - and while I enjoyed these latter type more, all are immaculately crafted and poignant pieces. Cold Pastoral, the first short story in the book (also, don't tell the publisher but it's here online for free), is by far the most memorable and moving, though I also enjoyed The Ingenue above the rest. Same for her nonfiction: memoirs about the nostalgic value of clutter in a teenager's car, a sympathetic portrait of an exterminator who loves his job but is wounded that nobody else does, a reflection upon coeliac disease and maternal perfectionism. Similar to the short stories most closely about young westerners, it is those few other essays that are less topic-oriented and more openly reflective and exploratory of one's place in the world that truly shine: Putting the "Fun" Back in Eschatology and Song for the Special read one after the other are awe-inspiringly idealistic, Even Artichokes Have Doubts (my personal favourite, a rallying cry of 'is this really what we want?' having surveyed the bleak corporate landscape of graduate prospects, check it out) an interesting train of thought, and definitely, the titular and introductory essay, The Opposite of Loneliness (also online), which emulates in almost pure form the frozen-in-time sense of what Marina Keegan felt like to be a privileged smart happy twenty-two year-old.

   Even though each particular essay and short story is brilliant, I found myself growing mournful as I neared the end of the book, as each chapter adds another layer to the delicate mental-origami-sculpture of Marina Keegan's personality that readers can't help but construct, so well do these works seem to introduce us to a real human sensitivity and wit, and knowing the actual fate of the author set against these varyingly-polished but consistently beautiful gems that she's written, well, it's saddening, and yet somehow invigorating. That she should be dead when her work is so tangibly brimming with life. It stings. I dunno. You should probably read this book.